Mojo with a personal touch
by Lennapen84
Summary: Dean returns from a hunt in worse shape then Sam was expecting but won't let Sam take care of him.  Castiel shows up and takes matters into his own hands...   Don't own Supernatural,just this story  o I rated M to be safe.This is my fist Supernatural fic


Sam sits at the hotel table perched over his laptop. He picks up his beer that sits near by intending to take a swig to only spill it down his shirt when the door slams open.

Dean stumbles through the open doorway with a pained look on his face. With effort Dean clicks the door close and glances at Sam. "Miss your mouth again Sammy?"

Sam watches a million emotions play across Dean's face unsure if he's trying to hide something. That's when Sam is brought back to the fact that the whole front side of his shirt is covered in beer that is now seeping into the crotch of his pants. It looks like he pissed himself.

Not cool.

"Jerk."

"Bitch." A smile ghosts Dean's lips but is gone in an instant. Pain seeps into his features as he limps over to the foot of his bed.

Sam strips off his t-shirt and heads over to his duffle across the room to grab some clean clothes. He pulls out a fresh set intending to take a quick shower when he realizes that Dean is just standing at the foot of the bed, staring down at the mattress like he doesn't know what to do next. Sam takes a quick once over of his brother to assess for anything noticeably wrong with him. He can see that Dads leather jacket is intact, covered in a layer of dirt. The black tee is a whole different story. Sam notices three scratch marks ripped from the left side of the chest all the way across to Dean's right hip, dried blood and dirt mingling together. There's a bruise on Deans forehead above his right eye and it looks like his bottom lip was split open earlier by the trace of dried blood across his lip and chin. Looks like Dean tried to hastily wipe it away from the blood evident on his right palm. Dean clenches his dirt caked hands and releases them at his side. He can tell Sam's eyes are on him.

"Sam…" There's a slight waiver in his voice but Sam can hear the warning.

"Dean, let me see…" Sam inches closer. He wants to make sure that the cuts on his brothers chest aren't too bad but has a feeling he's not going to be allowed. Tension drips from Deans coiled, bruised body and it hangs thick in the air.

"No…" Dean falls forward onto the welcoming mattress. His head hits the pillow and his body protests the sudden movement, unwelcomed pressure to his chest with a painful groan into the pillow. He can feel the side of the bed dip and he knows that Sam is sitting there with a worried expression.

"Dean…please…" Sam doesn't move and neither does he.

"…M…ines…" Dean's gravelly voice is muffled by the soft pillow. The muscles in Deans back are protesting for him to move, seizing in his lower back as he doesn't move. There comes a small defeated huff from beside him and the weight disappears. The bathroom door clicks shut and the shower swishes on signaling that Dean will have a few minutes to himself. He tries to roll over to get into a more comfortable position and his muscles seize up, tight "oh god…sonuva…shit…uughh…" His back makes the final call, he's not going anywhere with his face planted in the pillow. He's never had his muscles protest like that. He's Dean-Fucking-Winchester; his back doesn't go out like a wuss. He tries to at least scootch himself a little further up on the bed and grits his teeth in pain.

Nope.

Aint' gunna happen.

His lower back is out.

Shit.

"Please God let this go away" he mumbles into the pillow.

Dean never complains.

He sucks in a breath as his muscles spasm, almost mockingly.

Maybe he complains a little.

A groan escapes his lips from another spasm.

Ok.

A lot.

There's a soft flutter of wings as the air shifts in the room. "You are injured." The voice is gruff, blunt, and to the point.

"Cas…" Dean groans into his pillow. And he really didn't mean for so much pain to seep through in his tone.

There's a quiet shuffle of feet and the bed dips next to him. Suddenly the cool air of the hotel room hits the skin of his back and he realizes the angel zapped his jacket and torn shirt off his body. He's too tired to protest. "Kinky bastard trying to get me naked?" Dean huffs jokingly.

What happens next should freak him out.

Dean moans instead.

Cas's hands are warm with a much needed pressure on his lower back. Slowly the skin and muscles are kneaded, working from the middle, out, then up. This entices another moan from Dean. His skins on fire and it all seems to be settling in his lower abdomen. A slow coil begins as he feels the muscles in his back start to loosen from the heated movement.

This shouldn't be turning Dean on. He shouldn't be feeling pressure as pleasure starts to bulge at his lower front. This is an angel of the freaking Lord for Christ's sake.

Warm, chaste lips hit his skin and all thoughts are out the window.

Wet tongue is trailed down his neck, across his back to come to rest at the waistband of his jeans and Dean shivers. Yes. Shivers.

"Oh…god…" Dean moans, fisting the sheets under him.

"Not quite" Castiel chuckles. Freakin chuckles, the sound like music to Deans ears. The angel wraps a warm hand around Deans left hip and gently guides him onto his back. Pain creases his features as the sheets separate painfully from his chest wounds. Guess he cracked the fresh forming scabs when he flopped down earlier. As the pain subsides Dean dares to slit his eyes open, suddenly embarrassed that Cas's back rub has him half hard pressing against his jeans. Bright blue eyes meet green and there's concern hidden there. Dean watches as Castiel's hands ghost over his chest, fingers feather light, and the chest wounds are gone. A soft, Dean can't describe it any better then, light courses through his whole body head to toe. It takes a second but he realizes that he no longer has any pain or a scratch on him. He raises himself up on his elbows and tries his best to glare at Cas but fails cause he's grateful that he feels better than new, so he grins.

"Ok so why didn't you just mojo me when you first got here?" Dean notices the look in Castiels eyes change as Cas's palm comes to rest flat on Deans newly healed chest. "Cas?" Green eyes question as the warm palm presses him flat against the mattress.

"Because…" Cas sidles a leg over Deans hip, causing Deans breath to hitch in his throat, so now the angel is straddling his lap. Dean's eyes go wide at the sudden action and want hits him like a ton on bricks at what Castiel does next. Cas leans over the half-naked hunter, planting a hand on either side of Dean's head and lowers his dark haired head next to Dean's ear. "You seem to have enjoyed the massage…" Cas's breath is warm in a puff against Dean's skin. Cautiously Deans calloused hands wrap, one around the back of the angels neck, the other at the small of Cas's back. A moment passes as blues meet greens before Dean pulls Cas into a heated kiss.

Lips part as tongues fight for control, teeth messily clash. Cas is the first to pull away, breath slightly ragged. Dean opens his eyes trying to catch his breath and grins.

Cas is hard.

Dean did that to him with his kiss. Cas opens his eyes, taking a second to regain his composer.

"Yes Dean."

"Yes…wait…what?" Deans confused.

What's new?

"Yes…" Castiel grinds his hips against Dean enticing a moan from both, "you did this to me." Dean throws his head back on the pillow when Cas repeats the movements. He barely registers the angel mutter, "I would like to try something…" Cas leans down, trailing his fingers down Deans arm, causing a shudder, and takes a nipple in his mouth. Teeth graze the hard nub causing a low guttural moan to escape the hunters lips. Cas trails his lips across Dean's chest to bring the other nipple to a puckered existence.

Deans painfully hard and needs to do something about it before he cums in his paints.

It's not cool.

It's messy.

Bucking his hips, Dean searches for that much needed friction as his fingers tangle through Castiels hair, tugging gently. Biting back a moan at the confused blue eyes, Dean smiles. He crushes the angel's lips once more and allows his hands to finally roam the body above him. Quickly he pulls the white dress shirt free of the slacks waistband. Hands hastily move under and drag finger nails in a pleasure/pain pressure across Cas's stomach. A low moan dies on the angels tongue as the hunter seems to be clinging to his mouth like he depends on it.

Cas finally drags his lips away and trails swollen, wet lips across the hunters jaw and down to his neck. Dean throws his head back to allow the angel better access to his neck. Cas nips at the pulse point enticing an almost pornographic moan.

"Ah…yeeesss." Dean arches up receiving the needed friction. So close…So close.

"Oh god no…"

Just like that the heavy warmth is gone.

Friction

Gone

Sam's done with his shower.

Sam saw him groping an angel. Actually, Sam saw Dean getting 'touched' by an angel.

"Sunuvabitch!" Dean hisses. Taking a breath, he sits up on the bed. He's been left alone: hot, bothered, and hard. Painfully hard.

Dead dogs, dead cats, old people in a G-string. Nope. Ain't nothing gunna wilt mini-Dean. Time for plan-B. "Did you leave any hot water Sammy?"

"Uh…I think…" Sam watches as his brother walks straight into the bathroom and slams the door throwing up the lock. "Kay, really didn't need to see Dean's version of touched by an angel." Sam throws himself down on his bed and looks at the ceiling.

"Could really use a bleach of the brain right about now…" Sam's met with the sound of water running in the shower and small moans that seem to be getting louder. "Ah…come on!"


End file.
